


She’s just like paperwork (but harder to read)

by Gohandinhand



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bravenlarke Secret Santa, Bravenlarke endgame, Christmas Fluff, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Multi, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 05:43:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5528240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gohandinhand/pseuds/Gohandinhand
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This “hate-filled mother hen” thing is a new look on Bellamy, and she’s really not sure how to handle it yet."<br/>or<br/>It turns out Bellamy Blake is really dreadful at snap judgments.</p>
            </blockquote>





	She’s just like paperwork (but harder to read)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pitch_playbook](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pitch_playbook/gifts).



It turns out that getting into the swing of a new semester two weeks after everybody else started is… not the easiest thing, even setting Clarke’s extenuating circumstances aside. All of her professors have been understanding about the situation, at least, writing off her absences and allowing her to make up all of the work she’s missed so far. But making up two weeks of work in all of her classes whilst also trying to keep up with the current work (and ignoring her mother’s repeated phone calls) is enough to keep her more than busy.

Perhaps it is her hurried preoccupation with catching up that causes her to miss the preceding signals, or maybe there aren’t any.  Either way, Clarke is more than taken aback when she goes to turn her stack of work into Kane’s TA and he regards her with obvious disgust as he whips the pile out of her hands. Clarke shoots him a quizzical look, then immediately decides that since this is their first interaction, his pissed off mood must be due to something other than her.

“I… ah… Is that everything? I wasn’t exactly sure, Kane said – “

“Well, maybe if you’d come to class like you’re supposed to instead of relying on Mommy and Daddy’s money smoothing your way through life, we wouldn’t have to be dealing with this at all,” he snaps back at her.

Clarke’s eyes widen and her jaw snaps open like some sort of cartoon character as a stab of pain shoots through her chest.

“I… excuse me?” she fumbles, and then anger suffuses her face as the TA’s words sink in. “Well, _fuck you_ too, asshole. Kane clearly finds my ‘excuse’ acceptable, so as his aide you’re just going to have to fucking deal with it,” she seethes at him before turning on her heel and storming back out of the room.

The asshole doesn’t even _know_ her; hell, her mother and Kane’s sordid romantic past makes him _less_ likely to give her a free pass.  But the asshole he’s selected as his TA for this semester clearly hadn’t bothered to ask for details on why Clarke was coming in two weeks late, opting to hate her for the extra work she’s creating for him, instead.

He doesn’t deserve an explanation anyway, Clarke spitefully tells herself, and resolves herself to the fact that after less than a week back at school, she’s already found her nemesis for the year.

Wells is going to get an absolute kick out of this.

Over the next few weeks, the interactions between Clarke and the TA go from barely-veiled animosity to overt hostility as they snipe at each other at every opportunity. Even Professor Kane clues in a couple of times, shooting them concerned glances that get them to back down for a few days to avoid a talking-to by the professor. Then one of them will make a comment that pisses the other off and they’re right back to where they were; Clarke’s even a bit worried that she’s getting too distracted in class, occupying herself glaring daggers at Bellamy instead of listening to the lecture.  

It seems like the semester is going to proceed unrestrained down this route of mutual hatred, and they’re comfortably settling down into the new routine when Octavia’s Halloween party throws a massive wrench into the works.

Apparently Octavia’s parties are kind of a big deal around campus, the girl informs her in their Gender in Media class, and given that Clarke’s best (and only) friend is a good 1,500 miles away, she doesn’t put up much of a fight when Octavia talks her into attending.

She expects the party to be loud and raucous and really not her kind of scene, at least not lately, so she leaves late and when she arrives she finds her expectations to be right on the money. It’s a mass of drunken, uncoordinated bodies, and she sighs deeply to herself before diving into the crowd, trying to push her way to the sorely needed alcohol.

Clarke is pretty sure she’s the only person there currently sober, so it’s no surprise that she’s the first one to spot the girl being cornered by some drunk jock-type, a look of terror on her face. Without even pausing to think about it, Clarke detours over to the pair and ducks gracefully under the jock’s arm, standing between the two and pushing him away with her body.

“Okay buddy, time to move along.” Clarke says firmly, and the lout stares at her for a few long seconds with a puzzled expression on his face, before it settles into a scowl.

“Nuh uh, she wants me to stay!” he protests. Clarke turns her head slightly to look at the girl she’s protecting, and the minute shake of her head has Clarke whirling back around to face the guy head-on.

“Nope. Go find somebody else to harass.”

“Fuck you, bitch! Look at her outfit, she came here asking for –“

Clarke, having had more than enough of the asshole even _before_ he started spewing rape-y shit, powerfully drives her knee right into his groin. He chokes on air, bending over as, she assumes, he tries not to fall to the ground, and without waiting around for the rest of the scene to play out, Clarke tugs the drunk girl away from the corner. She tows her into the kitchen – finding her path much clearer after a large portion of the party witnessed her handling the asshat – and pulls out a bottle of water for her, cracking the cap and handing it over.

“Did you come here with friends?” she asks. The girl just nods, apparently shocked into muteness.

“Okay, good. Do you know where they are?”

The girl nods again and points to a group just on the other side of the open archway, and Clarke motions to them dramatically and watches carefully as the girl stumbles her way back into the safety of her group. “Drink your water!” Clarke calls out to remind the girl, stifling a laugh when she sees her hold the water bottle up to her face incredulously as if she’d never seen one before.

She turns around, intent on finding her own alcohol to try to wipe away the weariness she feels after the confrontation, only to immediately come face-to-face with another girl.  

“Whoa,” she says, stumbling back to reestablish her personal bubble. “Uh… hi?”

“I just watched you take down Dax and that was literally the best thing I’ve seen in… weeks. Months, maybe,” the brunette says appreciatively.

“I… what?”

“That asshole out there? Dax Shumway. He pulls that shit at every party and usually Octavia’s boyfriend – or sometimes mine – has to shut him down, but seeing a hot girl taking him down has seriously made my month.”

“Hot?” Clarke chuckles awkwardly, then. “Yeah, no, you also just said you have a boyfriend. Ignore me. Where’s the good stuff? Intervening in a near-rape kind of shook my faith in humanity and I figure alcohol is the best prescription to help fix that.”

“Oh, the good stuff is upstairs with the rest of the usual crew.” At Clarke’s puzzled look, the other girl frowns. “I guess I haven’t seen you around before. Who do you know?”

“Oh, uh… Octavia invited me?”

“Oh! You must be that hot blonde from her gender in media class! You sounded awesome and you just got a hundred times cooler. Come on, let’s go introduce you to everyone else. Well, most everyone – I think Lincoln and Bell are still out doing Octavia’s bidding, but the rest of the group is upstairs with the good shit.”

“Wait, do you really know me as ‘the hot blonde’ from Octavia’s class?” Clarke questions incredulously, and the other girl grins and nods.

“Yeah, it’s a thing,” she says happily, and Clarke gives her a flabbergasted look.

“Well, uh, I actually do have a name. Clarke,” she finishes lamely, and the other girl nods before pulling her bodily from the kitchen and tugging her to the staircase Clarke hadn’t noticed earlier.

“Well, I’m Raven,” she starts and they traipse up the stairs.  When they reach the landing at the top, she starts pointing to each of the people scattered all over the room in front of them. “And that is Miller, Monty, Jasper, Murphy – trust me, just ignore him – Maya, Fox, Sterling, Lincoln, and obviously you know Octavia. Guys, this is Clarke.” Clarke waves awkwardly at the group and shoots a panicked look in Octavia’s direction.

“I haven’t even had any alcohol yet and I’m definitely not going to remember everyone’s names. Sorry,” Clarke says with a sheepish grin.

“Pour her a shot. Or several shots. Definitely several.” Raven instructs one of the guys sitting in front of the coffee table – either Miller or Monty, Clarke thinks, she hadn’t been entirely sure who Raven had even been pointing at in the first place. “She just took Dax down with a shot right to the nads,” Raven announces with a grin, and everybody cheers in response.

“Did you hear that some girl punched Mbege out this week, too? Apparently this is sort of a thing right now,” one of the guys says, and Clarke feels herself blush a little.

“Uh, yeah – no, that was me, too.” At everybody’s shocked look, she shrugs. “He was being sexist and racist _and_ homophobic and I just kind of snapped?”

It’s silent for a tense few seconds, and then Octavia pipes up from where she’s sprawled across Lincoln’s lap. “Yeah, we’re so keeping you.”

Three shots later, Clarke and Raven are curled up on the sofa together discussing the ordeals of being a woman in a STEM field. When a hand snakes around from the back of the sofa to tug playfully at Raven’s hair, Clarke jumps as she is forcibly reminded of the rest of the world.

“Hey, Bell,” Raven murmurs, tilting her head up, and a curly head of hair descends to give her an upside-down kiss.

Curly hair that seems oddly familiar, and Clarke feels her stomach drop even as she tries to place it, only to find herself face to face with –

“What the fuck,” her asshole TA says flatly, and Clarke glares back at him.

“Bellamy, Clarke. Clarke, my boyfriend Bellamy,” Raven ignores the tension as she makes introductions, and Clarke waits for the pin to drop.

“Uh, yeah. I’m acquainted with the _princess_ ,” Bellamy sneers, and Raven shoots her a “what the fuck?” look before tugging him into the corner to have a not-so-hushed (they’re clearly all too drunk for proper volume control) conversation about his attitude.  


“Are you seriously trying to tell me that _Clarke_ is the ‘spoiled princess’ in Kane’s class that you decided is your enemy and have been complaining to me about for _weeks_?!” Raven questions incredulously, and Bellamy shrugs. “Well, it turns out she’s _really fucking awesome_ and you need to apologize.” At Bellamy’s fervent disagreement, she cradles her forehead in her palm and shakes her head back and forth slowly, obviously well acquainted with her boyfriend’s whims and stubbornness. “Fine, don’t apologize, but you’re going to have to learn to deal because I’m keeping her. She’s my new favorite.”

Raven waves off the rest of Bellamy’s protests and marches back to the couch, throwing herself down next to Clarke again.

“Sorry – “ Raven starts, and Clarke waves her off.

“Are you _seriously_ dating him?” Clarke questions. “He’s… a dick.”

“Yeah, he is,” Raven sighs. “For some reason I love him anyway, though. Seriously, though, I apologize about him – he feels he has to have a nemesis _every_ semester and for some reason he fixated on you this time. He’ll get over it by next semester at the latest.”

A tiny smile plays at the corner of Clarke’s lips as she shrugs. “Uh… I mean, it’s not _entirely_ his fault, I guess. My best friend insists that I may have the same habit; I mean, I didn’t _start_ it – this time – but once he pissed me off I definitely played into it, so you can’t be too mad at him,” Clarke says with a self-deprecating laugh. “I definitely don’t want you guys to fight about me.”

Raven just fixes her with a glare, and then shakes her head before laying back on the couch and throwing her arm dramatically over her eyes. “Insists on shouldering some of the blame for Bellamy acting like a complete dick and worries about said dick’s relationship. Yeah, _such_ a spoiled brat. Bellamy is a fucking idiot, ” she mutters.

Over the next few weeks, Raven – and Octavia and the rest of the group by extension – become fixtures in Clarke’s life. Over their next Skype call, Wells is relieved to learn – and hides his relief by teasing Clarke – that she’s finally gained herself some sort of social circle instead of “moping around alone all the time,” because “that’s a warning sign for a murder spree, Clarke”.

Their group is a lot of fun, and they’re finally succeeding in pulling Clarke out of her shell a little, but if she’s completely honest with herself (which she’s trying _really_ hard not to be), it’s Raven who draws her attention the most. They hang out without anyone else at least a few times a week, for anything from study sessions to just laying around in Clarke’s dorm room and getting drunk while talking about outer space, and despite their purposeful avoidance of having Clarke and Bellamy around each other again, Clarke can’t stop wondering what the hell Raven sees in him. Bellamy the Dick – the one who still glares at her throughout class and takes the opportunity to grade her papers overly harshly despite Clarke’s apparent new position as his girlfriend’s best friend – is the only part of him she’s seen, and it’s utterly fucking _baffling_.

 

And then comes Octavia’s Christmas party.

One day, Clarke will look back on the track record of Octavia’s parties and refuse to attend any more as she doesn’t need any more major life changes, but that time has not yet come.

Octavia’s Christmas party is very different from the drunken rager of her Halloween party, and Clarke is grateful for it. It’s just a dozen or so of their closest friends trying to decorate cookies before amicably getting wasted together. By midnight, Clarke is laying on the floor, Raven sprawled half across her and in turn being used as a pillow by Octavia. Bellamy’s been flicking bits of paper at them; he insists he’s aiming for Raven, but somehow keeps “accidentally” hitting Clarke in the face. She too drunk and too tired to care, so she throws an arm over her face and tunes everybody else out as they start arguing about Christmas decorations.

“What about you, Clarke?” Raven’s fingers in the side of her ribs tugs her back into the conversation, and despite being half-asleep, she moves her head slightly to look down at Raven questioningly. “You’re so wasted,” Raven sighs, then nestles into her side. “Are you a Christmas Grinch like Miller? Don’t think I didn’t notice your complete lack of any decorations in your dorm.  And your refusal to even wear the tiniest of Christmas-themed accessories is kind of glaring,” Raven says, fingering her own reindeer antler headband pointedly.

Clarke hums softly in agreement to Raven’s point and starts stroking the other woman’s dark hair, completely forgetting that anyone else is still involved in the conversation.

“I’m not, like, a _grinch_. Christmas was actually my favorite holiday – I have a shitload of decorations and stuff that got left at home when I transferred schools this year. I even won an award one year for setting up the best lights display…. Small towns with too much money, ” she grins, the alcohol clearly loosening her tongue as she starts to ramble. “It’s just – Christmas was something my dad and I always did together, and I can’t quite bring myself to celebrate it without him,” she finishes quietly.

“What, you’ve never been this far from home before, Griffin?” Raven teases, and to Clarke’s surprise it’s _Bellamy_ who lurches forward and cuts into their conversation.

“No, Raven, I don’t…“ Bellamy trails off, clearly unsure about where exactly he was going with that, trailing his hand back through his hair in frustration. “I. Uh. Past tense?” He finally directs the question awkwardly at Clarke, who merely nods her head a little in confirmation.

Bellamy quickly changes the subject, pulling the attention off of Clarke as he prods Jasper to tell everyone about the girl he accidentally groped earlier that day. Once everyone else is absorbed in the Jasper’s outrage and embarrassment, Bellamy catches Clarke’s eye as he quirks an eyebrow, silently asking her if she’s okay.

“Thanks,” Clarke mouths back at him, and he just nods minutely in response.

Bellamy is being _nice_ to her. It’s almost enough to get Clarke believing in actual, literal Christmas miracles.

What’s _not_ quite so miraculous is waking up the next morning – still on the floor, nestled in between Raven and Octavia and covered by a blanket someone had thrown over them – with a raging hangover. Clarke moans, rolling over and pressing her face into the ground to try to block out the sunlight that’s torture to her pounding head. She feels Octavia stir and then prop herself up next to Clarke before bursting out into laughter at the sight of everyone passed out all over the living room.

“Oh my god, O, shut up,” Raven mumbles from her other side, and Clarke is definitely in agreement.

“You guys are pathetic,” Octavia snorts as she pulls herself out of the pile. “I’m gonna make pancakes for breakfast. Anyone else?” A chorus of moans rings out as Clarke turns her head slightly to the side, cracking one eye open to glare at Octavia.

“You’re not _human_. Go away and leave us to suffer in peace,” Clarke rasps at her. She rolls into Raven to use her a human shield from the sunlight and, after removing of chunk of Raven’s hair from her mouth, she passes right back out again.

When she wakes again an hour or so later, it’s to the sound of a pill bottle being forcefully shaken.

“I hate you. A lot,” Clarke says pitifully, and the voice coming from right next to her startles her into opening her eyes.

“Well, it’s not like that’s really your fault,” Bellamy says dryly, then holds the bottle out in front of her enticingly. “Aspirin?” Clarke looks at him warily.

“Is it poison?” she questions, and he rolls his eyes.

“I can tell how bad your hangover is, princess. You’re a mess. Take the damn painkillers.” Bellamy pours several out of the bottle into his palm, holding them out to Clarke.

“Do you have any wat-” Clarke starts, only to be abruptly cut off when Raven’s hand snakes around from behind her, grabs all four pills, and swallows them dry. “What the fuck, Raven,” she grouses, then squirms away when Raven elbows her in the ribs.

“Only wimps need water to take pills.” Raven says hoarsely, then starts coughing. Clarke sits up, laughing, and rubs Raven’s back until Bellamy returns with a cup of water. Raven gulps it down first, fixing the other two with a glare that makes it clear they had better not say anything. She hands Clarke the glass and Bellamy hands her a few more pills, which she gratefully gulps down before there’s any more interference. “Breakfast?” Raven asks hopefully, and Clarke whimpers as her stomach rolls in protest, hiding herself under the blanket again.

“That’s a no, then,” Bellamy says dryly, and Clarke just burrows further under the blanket in protest. “Pathetic,” she hears him mutter, but honestly her head hurts too much to care. “Okay, Clarke. I have bad news. Most of our friends are genetic glitches that don’t experience hangovers like normal human beings, so they’re kind of unbearable. They’re downstairs already full of holiday cheer again.” Clarke groans again.

“Well, as soon as the painkillers kick in, I’m braving the aliens for Octavia’s red velvet pancakes... Christmas tradition,” Raven adds at Clarke’s questioning look. “Man, I keep forgetting that you haven’t been around that long. Everyone is kind of _really_ into the ‘most magical time of the year’ shit.” Clarke starts chewing on her lip and she watches Bellamy eye her nervous habit speculatively.

“You don’t want pancakes, right Clarke?” Bellamy cuts in abruptly.

“I think my digestive system would definitely revolt,” she responds weakly.

“Yeah, I’m betting you look about as great as you feel. Why don’t I take you home?”

Clarke kind of suspects she’s at risk for whiplash. The quick changes from Bellamy being an ass, to being nice, to being an ass and nice at the same time - well, at the moment she’s left feeling vaguely insulted as well as… cared for?

By _Bellamy Blake._

Clarke nods in stunned agreement - the whole Bellamy thing aside (okay, fine, it’s really hard to put that aside), she’s actually more than ready to go home and suffer alone in her bed for the next few hours.

“That sounds like a great idea,” Raven says blithely, placing an absentminded kiss on the side of Clarke’s head before she hauls herself off and stumbles away, presumably to the bathroom.

_What is going on?_

Clarke shakes it off - clearly Raven is just the type of person who’s overly physically affectionate with her friends, and Bellamy doesn’t look bothered in the slightest - and starts painstakingly making her way out from under the blanket pile, trying not to piss her shaky stomach off too much.

Bellamy heaves a sigh as if she’s making his life _so difficult_ , but holds her arm as she descends the stairs regardless.

This “hate-filled mother hen” thing is a new look on Bellamy, and she’s really not sure how to handle it yet.

 

When Bellamy pulls up in front of her dorm - she didn’t even have to give him the name or directions, Clarke notes, although it’s probably just from the times he’s dropped Raven off - they sit in tense silence for a few long seconds before Clarke decides it’s time to bail.

“Uh, yeah, thanks for-” Clarke starts.

“Are you going to be okay?” Bellamy asks at the same time, and they chuckle awkwardly at each other.

“Yeah, it’s just a hangover,” Clarke assures him. “I’m going to go lie in bed and nap on and off for, oh, the next five hours or so, and then I’ll probably do some studying for my finals.” Bellamy sighs in frustration, and Clarke frowns a little.

“No, I mean - ugh,” Bellamy cuts himself off. “I can tell the Christmas thing is still really tender with you, and… your dad, and all. Are you going to be _okay?”_

Clarke blinks, a little misty-eyed and a lot shocked as she feels Bellamy’s concern short-circuiting her brain.

“I… uh, yeah? I mean. I’m coping. Focusing on finals. Gotta keep my 4.0 somehow. I have this poli sci class with this ridiculous T.A. who I’m pretty sure is trying to fail me,” she teases, and Bellamy rolls his eyes.

“Feel free to tell me to fuck off, but… I remember how hard the first holiday season was after my mom died. It got a little easier from there, but the first year - the first couple of years really - are… tough.”

“When did she die?” Clarke asks quietly, then looks up at him wide-eyed.  She hadn’t really meant to ask, but it had just slipped out. She and Bellamy were _barely_ even friendly, why would he -

“Six years ago,” Bellamy answers easily, surprising her. “She was sick for awhile, so it wasn’t a sudden thing, but Octavia was fourteen and… anyway, yeah. You can tell O’s pretty well adjusted to doing the holiday thing parentless,” he finishes with a wry smile. Clarke merely nods, contemplative, and the silence in the car is much more peaceful than awkward for a short time before Bellamy breaks it again.

“If you don’t mind me asking, how long has it been?” Bellamy asks softly, and Clarke swallows hard.

“Uh… how many days into the semester are we? That many days exactly,” Clarke tries to joke, ending in a grimace when Bellamy just looks at her, eyes wide.

“Jesus, Clarke, are you serious?” Bellamy snaps, and Clarke recoils.

“What?!”

“Your dad just died on the first day of the semester? Fuck, no wonder you’re not a huge Christmas fan right now.” He grimaces, and then his eyes widen yet again. Clarke is honestly starting to worry about the state of his optic nerve. “ _Shit_. That’s why you missed the first two weeks of class, isn’t it?” She nods, and Bellamy curses again. “Fuck, I’m a terrible person. I… shit.” Bellamy runs his hands through his hair again, something she’s starting to notice must be a nervous tick of his. “When you showed up so late and Kane didn’t tell me anything but to make sure you had everything you need and you ‘weren’t to be penalized’, I kind of just… assumed you were some spoiled rich kid whose parents had their name on one of the science buildings or something,” Bellamy says sheepishly.

Clarke gapes at him, and Bellamy just _shrugs_.

“Bellamy Blake. Are you telling me that because you didn’t bother to ask Kane _why_ he made that decision, you pulled this reason out of your ass and you’ve been torturing me for the last four months for something that is _not even true?!”_ By the end, Clarke’s voice has risen into a shriek, and when Bellamy just shrugs guiltily at her once more, Clarke smacks him in the face with her purse before she knows what’s happening

He blinks a couple of times while she waits nervously for his reaction, and then finally looks at her, eyes narrowed.

“Okay, I definitely did deserve that.” Clarke grins at him, and he holds up a finger. “ _Just_ that, though. This is not a free pass for you to abuse me every time we hang out,” Bellamy says warningly.

“Wait, we’re going to be hanging out?” Clarke teases, and Bellamy actually _blushes_ a little. Whoa.

“It’s, I, uh,” Bellamy stammers, and Clarke is struggling to hold in her laugh now. She has never seen Bellamy so flustered about _anything_ , not even the time one of the sorority girls thought she could get away with sneakily giving her boyfriend a handjob during class and Bellamy had to bust them. “My first impression of you may have been wrong,” he says, and he actually sounds pained as it leaves his mouth.

“Not used to admitting that one, are you Blake?” Clarke says cheerily, and Bellamy just buries his face in his hands. “It’s alright, you’re totally way less of a dick than I thought too!” Clarke says brightly, and Bellamy groans.

“Get out of the car, Griffin. Go be miserable somewhere else.”

“Actually, I’m feeling pretty good now,” Clarke grins, and Bellamy glares at her.

“Fine, then go get some shit done so I don’t have to fail you,” he threatens, and Clarke just laughs as she climbs out of his truck.

“See you on Tuesday, buddy!” she taunts, and Bellamy flashes her the bird before shifting into drive and taking off.

 

When she shows up early for class on Tuesday, Bellamy is already waiting for her with coffee.

“Uh, what’s this?” she questions when he hands it over.

“Peppermint mocha - with an extra pump,” he grimaces at her, and she frowns. “What? That’s right, isn’t it?!”

“Yeah, but… how did you know my order?” Clarke questions.

“Oh. I told Raven about our conversation when I dropped you off, and… she told me my apology was not yet ‘sufficient enough’ and I thought this would be a good place to start so she helped me, and, uh… yeah,” Bellamy awkwardly trails off.

“Wait, _Raven_ knows my order?” Clarke says dumbly, still trying to catch up.

“Uh… yeah?” Bellamy gives her a weird look. “She says you’re fucking obsessed with these things, her words, the whole time they’re in season, even though you’re an ‘alien who takes it with way too much of that sugary fake peppermint goo stuff’ - also her words!” he quickly adds at Clarke’s threatening glare.

“Well, awesome. Great start,” she says, scooping the cup happily out of his hands and taking a huge gulp. “As the next part of your apology, can I get a little boost - if you know what I mean - on the final?” Clarke winks at him, and Bellamy rolls his eyes.

“Don’t push it, Griffin. Go find your seat before we get reported to the Dean for misconduct or something.”

 

Clarke takes the coffee as a sign that everything is going to be _different_ from here on out, and she’s not wrong. When she shows up the following week for her final, Bellamy meets her not only with a cup of coffee but also a bar of dark chocolate, which is _insists_ is “brain food”, despite Clarke teasing him that according to all her pre-med expertise, that is not a thing.

(She definitely eats it anyway.)

Raven knocks on Clarke’s dorm room door the next evening as usual, and she throws it open only to find Bellamy in tow, also. They pull her away from her final’s cramming long enough to get some dinner in her from her favorite Thai place down the street, and when they get back to the dorm, Bellamy is the one who helps Clarke study for her history final while they ignore Raven taking apart Clarke’s clock behind them.

 

On Christmas, Clarke is fully prepared to spend the day in bed, eating junk food and ignoring the outside world. But when Raven and Bellamy show up to drag her back to their apartment, she can’t find it in herself to put up a fight. They toe the line perfectly, celebrating in small enough ways that they are able to coerce her to join them without making Clarke cry. Raven presents her with the alarm clock that Clarke hadn’t really noticed had gone missing, pointing out all the improvements she made to it, and Clarke can’t help but throw her arms around Raven and smack a kiss onto her cheek. Raven blushes, then gestures to Bellamy, who presents her with his own gift, a Hamilton soundtrack that the two end up obsessively listening to together for weeks on end.

Clarke feels a little ashamed of her own gifts, just a hastily made pair of hats she knitted, but the way Raven’s eyes light up when she sees that the hats don the words “player one” and “player two” quickly calms her fears. When Raven _insists_ later that the hats must be worn while they boot up Mario Kart, Clarke ignores the way her heart flutters and just grins stupidly at the pair trash talking each other in matching hats.

 

When the new semester starts, Clarke doesn’t even have time to feel sad about seeing less of Bellamy now that she’s finished with Kane’s class. As the months pass, he and Raven hardly leave her alone; some nights they drag her out, but most of the time they stay in and force Clarke to play Cards Against Humanity, or work on improving her video game skills, or help Raven program a stupid Alexander Hamilton chatbot to entertain Bellamy.

Clarke spends a _lot_ of her time squashing stupid grins and ignoring the tingly feeling she gets when one of them, all sleepy affection, forces her to cuddle when they cram together on the couch to binge-watch another show. Bellamy and Raven are clearly just physically affectionate people, she tells herself. At least, they’re very affectionate with each other, and honestly they’re the most adorable couple Clarke has ever seen.

She _totally_ understands what Raven sees in Bellamy, now.

 

The entire group insists on hitting up Grounders bar for Clarke’s 22nd birthday, and she acquiesces easily. Octavia kidnapped her earlier and dragged her to a beginners’ Tae Kwon Do class for a “treat”.  At least she treated her to froyo afterwards, but… yeah, Clarke is _really_ ready for some alcohol by the time Octavia is dragging her out the door to head for the bar.

She notices Bellamy and Raven’s absence as soon as they arrive, and she frowns. Raven’s probably just making them late, as usual, but despite the crowd and the rest of their friends already there clamoring to buy her the first drink of her birthday, it feels empty without them.

She’s leaning on the bar, waiting for the bartender to come back to this side so she can grab a round, when she feels someone sidle up right next to her. She ignores it until a familiar voice pipes up, his grin bleeding into his voice.

“This must be the eighth castle, because I just found my princess.”

“Oh my god, Bellamy, you’re such a nerd,” Clarke laughs, turning and smacking him on the chest. He ignores it, pressing a kiss to her cheek in greeting, instead.

“Happy Birthday, Clarke,” Bellamy says fondly, pulling her into his side, where she immediately nestles under his arm with a happy sigh.

She jumps a little when someone ducks under her arm, then relaxes and grins happily when she realizes it’s Raven, nestling herself into Clarke’s side with a happy sigh of her own.

“Hey, Rave,” Clarke greets her.

“No, the name’s Bond. Covalent Bond.” Clarke gives her a puzzled look, and Raven just grins at her.

“Uh, okay. Hey Bond.”

“No that’s weird, call me Raven.”

“... Alright?” Clarke shrugs it off, used to Raven’s weird whims. “What do you guys want?”

“Oh, we’re not drinking tonight. Our turn to be the party moms,” Bellamy explains when Clarke looks concerned.

“If you were a sheep, I would totally clone you,” Raven says suddenly, and Clarke looks down at her again.

“Um, are you sure Raven wasn’t pre-gaming, Bell?” He just snorts in response.

“Nah, she’s just terrible, feel free to ignore her.”

“Hey! No cheating!” Raven protests, and Clarke looks back and forth between the two of them. Clearly she’s missing something - but the bartender finally shows up and Bellamy buys her a drink and by the time they make it back to the table, she’s thoroughly distracted from whatever weirdness is going on.

Well, distracted just long enough for her to gulp down half her drink, and then Bellamy and Raven are right back into whatever the hell they’ve got going on. Miller’s present is a little keychain breathalyzer, and Clarke (sort of) jokingly makes Raven and Bellamy both test. Honestly, she’s a little surprised that they both blow stone-cold sober, but she’s also not sure how accurate a keychain breathalyzer really _is._

Bellamy drags Clarke out onto the dance floor with the excuse of, “I’m no James Monroe, but I can give you an Era of Good Feelings” and a salacious wink.

Raven brings her another drink and then props her head on her hand on the table, staring at Clarke contemplatively. “How do you feel about group experiments?”

When Bellamy tells her she’s “hotter than Chicago in 1871,” Clarke actually pauses to mentally run over how much she’s had to drink, and it’s really not that much - she should only be moderately tipsy, honestly, but someone must have spiked something because there’s no way that _actually_ just came out of Bellamy’s mouth.

She’s standing at the bar waiting for her drink again with Bellamy, watching Raven fidget weirdly at the table while waiting for them to return.

“What is going _on_ with you two tonight?” Clarke asks frankly, and Bellamy looks at her oddly. He catches Raven’s eye and motions her over, and Clarke glances back and forth between the two of them with her brow furrowed.

They are acting _so weird._

“On a scale of one to Cher Horowitz, how clueless are you?” Bellamy asks, and Clarke barks out a laugh.

“Uh… Dee Davenport?” she ventures. Raven shakes her head.

“Seriously, how does it turn out that my type is apparently the ‘fourteen year old girl’ kind of nerd,” Raven mutters, and Clarke gapes at her. She shakes her head, trying to clear it, and turns back to the bar.

“Seriously, where is the bartender? This is ridiculous. I -”

“Jesus, Clarke,” Bellamy interrupts her nervous rambling, grabbing her arm and tugging her into him, and then suddenly his lips are on hers. They’re a little bit chapped and he tastes like the Coke he’s been drinking all night, and Clarke can’t help but instinctively respond. He nibbles on her bottom lip and she gasps a little. Bellamy takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into her open mouth, and she sinks into him. She can’t help the moan that slips out, and the sound startles her back into reality. She abruptly pulls back from Bellamy, eyes wide and lips swollen, and turns to Raven.

“Fuck - I… Raven, I’m so sorry, I didn’t-” she stammers, and Raven rolls her eyes.

“Holy shit, Clarke, you’re _well_ beyond Cher,” Raven rolls her eyes, and then suddenly her lips are claiming Clarke’s too, swooping her into a deep kiss.

Clarke pulls back way too soon; as much as she wants to - oh she _wants_ to - sink into Raven’s kiss the same way she had Bellamy’s, she’s too confused and anxious to relax into it.

Clarke takes a few steps away from Bellamy and Raven - she needs a clear head, and their proximity is just too distracting.

“I… don’t understand. It’s - just- I-” Clarke honestly doesn’t even know what she’s trying to say. “What is going _on_?” she finally settles on, and Raven breaks down into uninhibited laughter, pressing her face into Bellamy’s chest.

Bellamy grins, looking down at Raven, then back up at Clarke.

“Okay, Clarke,” Bellamy says, exaggeratedly drawing out his words. “We - as in, Raven and I - are ridiculously, embarrassingly into you. Is that clear enough for you?”

Clarke furrows her brow. “I… Wow. I didn’t think this was a possibility? I think I need a second,” she says faintly. Bellamy looks concerned, immediately stepping forward and putting a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Fuck, Clarke, are you alright? We didn’t mean to pressure you. Shit, we thought you were interested, but we should have asked first and -” Bellamy is all concern and chagrin and Clarke just feels such a rush of warmth and affection for him that suddenly it _clicks_.

She surges upwards, catching Bellamy’s lips again in a bruising kiss. It’s intense for a few brief seconds, and then Clarke can’t contain her joy any more. She smiles into his lips, and then the laughter that bubbles out of her breaks the kiss. She ducks her head and hides her flushed cheeks in Bellamy’s chest, and Raven comes up behind her and strokes her back before dropping a light kiss on the exposed back of her neck.

“So, I’m allowed to take that as you being incredibly into us also, right?” Raven murmurs to her.

“Fuck yes,” Clarke mumbles, Bellamy’s chest muffling her words.

“Sorry, I can’t hear you. What was that?” Raven teases, and Clarke turns her head from Bellamy’s chest to glare at her.

“Shut up, Raven,” Clarke says firmly, spinning in Bellamy’s arms before cutting off what is sure to be another teasing comment from Raven by kissing her. It’s deep and dirty, and when Raven exhales heavily in surprise, Clarke immediately takes the opportunity to lick into Raven’s mouth.

Sudden _cheering_ from a few feet away startles Clarke and pops their bubbles, and she jerks away from Raven, suddenly hyperaware of how they look - Clarke wrapped in Bellamy’s arms, making out with his girlfriend.

Clarke has no idea how to explain this, but luckily it doesn’t seem like she needs to.

“Yeeeeeaaah, get it!” Jasper hoots drunkenly.

“Happy birthday to _you,_ Clarke!” Octavia hollers immediately after, and this time Clarke hides her blushing cheeks in the crook of Raven’s shoulder. (And if the position presents the opportunity to nuzzle into Raven’s neck at the same time, that’s just coincidence. Really.)

“Maybe we should go?” Bellamy offers with a smirk, and Clarke shrugs, only pulling away from Raven with a groan when Bellamy tugs on her arm.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Clarke agrees. “Please get me away from those drunken buffoons.”

It’s only when they’re exiting the bar that Clarke frowns and pauses, tugging on Bellamy and Raven’s hands where they’d held on both sides of her and pulling them out of the doorway so others can exit behind them.

“Wait a second, everyone else gave me their presents but you guys never gave me yours!” Clarke complains.

Bellamy runs his hand through his hair - Clarke can’t help but grin fondly at the tic - and sort of shuffles in place.

“Uh, yeah, it’s - okay, so this is from Raven and I. It was kind of time sensitive? So that’s why we didn’t… Anyway, I did like all of the work.  Don’t let Raven convince you otherwise,” he teases, and Raven reaches around Clarke to smack him on the back of the head.

“Yeah, but I came up with the idea!” Raven fires back as she pulls a small, lumpy wrapped present out of her purse.

Clarke tears into the wrapping paper eagerly, but when she drops it to cradle the gift in her hands, she has to swallow past the lump in her throat.

“I couldn’t find the same pattern you used, but my mom taught me to knit when I was a kid… I kind of had to wing it so I hope it turned out okay,” Bellamy says softly.

Clarke sniffles a little, and Raven barks out a laugh.

“Don’t get too soft on us, Griffin. Come on, put it on,” Raven urges.

Clarke looks up at them, and she’s sure they can see the soft look in her eyes as she tugs the hat over her head.

“Alright player three, time to go home.” Bellamy flicks teasingly at the pom-pom adorning the top of her head, and Clarke doesn’t even try to resist the urge to press a kiss of thanks on Bellamy and then Raven’s lips.

Now that’s something she’s _allowed_ to do, she has a feeling she’s going to be doing that more than a fair bit.

 

The next day, Clarke shares a post-birthday selfie on her Instagram. The picture of Bellamy, Raven, and her, bright eyed and glowing and donning their player one, two, and three hats garners fifty-nine comments in the first twenty minutes.

 

“I’m really glad we don’t have to go out into the snow to kidnap you for Christmas this year, Clarke,” Raven yawns. “This is _so_ much better.”

Objectively, it definitely is. She’s snuggled in bed with her girlfriend, waiting for their boyfriend to come back bearing a plate of her dad’s favorite Christmas cookie so they can refuel before continuing to give each other their “presents”.

Christmas is a lot easier this year; time heals all wounds, as the cliche goes, but Clarke also suspects that a lot of it is just Raven and Bellamy. She knows in a little while they’ll finally get out of bed and feign surprise when they all unwrap the coordinating Mario Kart themed scarves they know they made for one another, before spending the day eating the food Octavia sent them so they would “be a little less pathetic, one of you is going to have to learn how to cook at some point, jesus fucking christ”.

“Holy fucking _shit_ ,” Bellamy yells as he sprints back into their bedroom, notably cookie-less. “I finally just remembered to open the email with the roster for the spring semester that Kane sent me, and Cage fucking Wallace registered for another one of Kane’s classes. This is going to be terrible. Well, awesome. But terrible.”

Raven just sighs, and Clarke snorts her amusement into her hair. “Well, at least we won’t have to deal with you choosing a _new_ nemesis this year.”


End file.
